Sweet Dreams Are Made of This

Well, not really. A dream that woke me up at 3:30 in the morning three nights ago and that is still stuck in my head is something that I figure would be worth writing down, though:

In a park, on a sunny day, sits a chubby boy, about five years old, on a bench, licking an old-fashioned, giant, rainbow-colored lollipop. The boy is wearing what appears to be a cross between a blue Donald Duck sailor suit, a Little Lord Fauntleroy outfit, and a “Fancy Lad” uniform from the vastly underrated movie Cabin Boy. The overall atmosphere is one of a vaguely unsettling idyll.

From overhead, a voice booms, “And now, please welcome the world-famous German-Teaching Clown With Severe Anger And Hypertension Issues!” Applause ensues from within the air.

The clown creeps into view along a pathway aside of which the boy’s bench sits. He is practically tiptoeing, which is no small feat to pull off with oversized red shoes. He is also wearing a yellow jumper with red polka-dots, and his face is painted entirely in white, except for the area around his mouth, which is painted into a disturbingly exaggerated smile in bright red makeup. His hair is also bright red and very thick and curly, but he is bald on the top of his head. Something about him seems almost painfully elongated.

He continues to creep toward the boy, and begins to speak very slowly in an absurdly sing-songy voice, with every word ending in a questioning inflection, “Wo? Ist? Das? Badezimmer?”

The boy continues to lick the lollipop.

“Wo? Ist? Der? Badezimmer?”

The clown remains ignored.

“Wo? Ist? Der? Badezimmer?”

No response. The clown’s remonstrations grow more assertive as he draws nearer.

“Wo ist der Badezimmer?”

Lick.

“Wo ist der Badezimmer?!”

No answer.

“Wo ist der Badezimmer!”

Lick. The clown now sounds desperate and is bellowing:

“WO IST DER BADEZIMMER!!!!!!!!”

The clown’s pants are now visibly drenched. He collapses to his knees and wails, a broken man:

“WARUM VERSTEHST DU MICH NICHT???!!!!!!!”

The clown now topples onto his back and lays flat on the ground, twitching. Blood begins to trickle from the corners of his mouth, his eyes and his ears. The twitching slows to a halt and the blood flow increases. He is dead.

The boy sits on the park bench, obliviously licking the lollipop. The clown’s corpse lies at his feet.

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